


Coppertips and Clover

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cooking, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Recipes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6418657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fëanor and Amrod make a cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coppertips and Clover

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the following B2Mem 2014 prompt: It's time for the summer fruits and berries: strawberries and blackberries are abundant, and in some places the trees droop with peaches and plums. The tomatoes and cucumbers are ripe on the vine. Create a story or a work of art featuring a Summer seasonal food. Bonus for including a recipe.

“I got them, dad!” 

Pityafinwë scuttled into the kitchen and up to his father, holding an egg in each hand.

Fëanáro turned from the kitchen table to him, smiling. “Good, now we have everything.”

Pityafinwë passed the eggs to his father and peered at the bowl where he had already mixed together three cups of flour and two of sugar.

The other ingredients still sat around the bowl as he had left them: two small glasses, one half-filled with olive oil and the other with a sweet liquor, salt, yeast, a bottle of milk, the rind of half a lemon, which his father had been grating when he left, and the most important of them all: freshly-made blackberry jam, as well as freshly-picked blackberries to be used as decoration.

Satisfied that his father hadn't made any progress in his absence, as promised, Pityafinwë climbed onto a chair and turned to him again. “If I watch closely, can I make it next time?”

“Of course.” 

Fëanáro held up the eggs and Pityafinwë nodded to him to begin, so he broke both into the bowl, and quickly added all other ingredients, mixing them as he did.

Pityafinwë tried his best to concentrate on the movements of his father's hands, but his eyes kept straying towards the blackberries. They were big, all perfectly back, and gave off a sweet scent, which became even more tempting when his father opened the jar and lifted a spoonful of the jam. 

He started shifting on the chair, and Fëanáro easily guessed the reason behind his restlessness.

“You can eat some, we have plenty,” he said while adding three more large spoonfuls of the jam to the batter, which lent it a light violet hue. 

Pityafinwë lost no time reaching for the berries, beaming. 

From the other side of the house came the sound of Macalaurë strumming a lively tune on one of his lutes, but there were no other noises apart from that. The house at the lakeside was small – a hut with barely enough space for all of them – and it was easy to tell who was in it and what they were doing.

“Will the cake be ready by the time Telvo and Nelyo come back?” Pityafinwë asked in between eating berries.

Telufinwë was out with Maitimo, visiting a resident of the area who had promised to teach them how to best grow some of the local wildflowers – the coppertips which covered the hills and sundry types of orchids.

Fëanáro mumbled his assent, casting a glance at the oven, where he had already lit a small fire. “It will be the _perfect_ surprise for them.”

“Will Turco and Moryo be back to eat it too?”

Tyelcormo and Carnistir had quarrelled: Tyelcormo had elbowed Carnistir while they picked blackberries, and Carnistir had lost his footing and nearly fallen face-forward into the briar while he tried to reach for a particularly well-hidden berry. Tyelcormo claimed it was an accident, but Carnistir didn't believe him, and before anyone could intervene their quarrel had escalated until Tyelcormo dived into the woods with Huan and Carnistir stomped off towards the lake. 

“They will, don't worry,” Fëanáro said, well used to his sons' moods, because they were not too different from his own. “So, which shape do you want the cake to be?”

Pityafinwë looked up at the wall where several tins and pots were lined, some made of steel, others of copper, in all manner of shapes and sizes, but thinking of his twin's love for plants, it wasn't hard at all for him to decide. He pointed at the middle one in the bottom row with a stained finger, and his father nodded before he even said, “the clover!”

**Author's Note:**

> The recipe:  
> 350 g flour  
> 200 g sugar  
> 2 eggs  
> 250 ml milk  
> 1/2 coffee cup of olive oil  
> 1/2 glass of liquor  
> 1/2 grated lemon rind  
> 1 sachet of yeast  
> a pinch of salt  
> four spoonfuls of blackberry jam
> 
> Just mix all the ingredients together, and bake at 180°C for about half a hour. 
> 
> You can also make a coating with some blackberry jam and sugar, and put some fresh blackberries on top too.


End file.
